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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27202061">Just something I can turn to</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoCarthage/pseuds/JoCarthage'>JoCarthage</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Long distances and close calls (2020 phone banking accountability fic series) [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cats, Domestic Fluff, Hand Feeding, Hand feeding with a fork, M/M, Mentions of spaying and neutering cats</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:47:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>850</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27202061</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoCarthage/pseuds/JoCarthage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex discovers Michael has been feeding a junkyard cat; they get distracted by mango sticky rice take-out.<br/>--<br/>This is a fic series where, after each day of phone banking for the democratic ticket in the US's 2020 presidential election, I will write a fic that's 10x the number of calls I made. So if I make 14 calls, I write and post a 140 word fic. If I made 82 calls, 820 words. If you'd like to start phone banking, you can sign-up for a good, comprehensive training here: https://demvolctr.org. If you're in the US and need help 0) finding your polling place, 1) knowing what to bring, 2) filling out the ballot, 3) anything weird happens at the polls, you can get help through the voter hotline (833-336-8683 || text ACCESS to 43367) or at http://iwillvote.com.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michael Guerin/Alex Manes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Long distances and close calls (2020 phone banking accountability fic series) [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Just something I can turn to</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I made 85 calls today into Georgia, for a total of 935 calls so far. For the other people phone banking -- if you are open to sharing your number of calls/texts/postcards (either total, per week, per day) and if my style of writing is your jam, let me know what kind of fic you'd like in the comments or on tumblr (http://jocarthage.tumblr.com) and I'll try to write you a one-shot!<br/>--<br/>The topic is inspired by LoriLane's nearly-daily photos of adorable feral kittens + the cats (and raccoons and possums and birds and squirrels) I feed with no shame in my backyard.</p><p>Title is from The Chainsmoker's "Something just like this": https://genius.com/The-chainsmokers-and-coldplay-something-just-like-this-lyrics</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Are you feeding the raccoons, Michael?"</p><p>Michael paused from where he was tucking a heaping bowl of cat food under a the back wheel of a junker Sanders was having him strip for parts. Just like he'd been doing since Forest moved to Arlington, Alex had snuck up on him, all quirked smile and tight pants.</p><p>"No," he said, nudging it just a little bit further under the car. "I'm feeding the feral cat."</p><p>"Ah," Alex said, leaning his weight against the tenuous stability of the junker's door, the afternoon sun throwing his long shadow over Michael's hands. "I don't see a feral cat."</p><p>Michael pulled out a plastic water bottle to fill a second metal bowl. "She sleeps in the engine block of the '85 Toyota 4x4 over there when it's warm out and on the roof of the Airstream when it's cool."</p><p>He crumbled the empty bottle and shoved it in his back pocket as he stood. "I took her in to get spayed two summers ago, you can how they clipped just the top of her left ear so it's easy to tell she's fixed from a distance. She wouldn't let me near her for months after that; but I kept feeding her, so she came back. Now she comes over to supervise when I'm the only one working."</p><p>There was a mix of confusion and softness on Alex's face: "Where'd she come from?"</p><p>Michael pointed towards the highway: "People dump kittens. I had the vet check her for a tracking tag, and obviously she doesn't have a caller or I'd've called, but she's got nothing and nobody."</p><p>"I didn't know you liked cats."</p><p>"I don't." At Alex's raised eyebrows, he ducked his head. "She's a living thing within my power to help. What would I be if I didn't try?"</p><p>Michael didn't know how to interpret the thoughts flying over Alex's face, so he kept his voice neutral: "Can I help you with something?"</p><p>Alex looked at his truck, where he'd probably prepared some ghastly report on Mr Jones's most recent shit-stirring; then he shook his head. "Nothing -- nothing that can't wait. You said she comes out to eat when you're the only one here?"</p><p>Michael had a thought: "You want to see if she'll make an exception?"</p><p>--</p><p>Alex ordered Thai food, insisting it was his treat <em>'since I'm imposing on your kitty time.'</em></p><p>Michael had grumbled but given him his usual order: green curry and jasmine rice. Alex asked for pad thai, extra spicy, and then added in an order of mango and sticky rice, which Michael had always been curious about but never quite seen the point of adding the cost of another entree just for a desert.</p><p>They ate as sunset splashed technicolor and a light wind floated in from town, bringing the occasional sound of an engine dopplering by. Alex didn't fill the space with chatter the way Isobel or Max did. He just ate with the single-minded determination of all men who'd had their meals timed or who hadn't always had enough to eat; they both ate that way, to think of it.</p><p>When Alex finished, he moved his lawn chair flush against Michael's, who was still finishing his last bite of curry. </p><p>Michael cocked his head and Alex sat, pulling out the sticky rice and mango and popping open the clear oyster shell.</p><p>"No real way to split it up," he said, spearing a piece of the coconut milk-drizzled mango on his fork and cutting off a corner of the sweet sticky rice. He was raising it when he paused, and Michael felt his gaze on his face, searching for something. Then he raised it a little further, tines drifting tentatively across the space between them and into Michael's view. "You said you'd never had it?" Alex asked.</p><p>Michael nodded, gaze on the bright orange of the mango. He glanced up into Alex's eyes before opening his mouth, just enough to let the pulp brush past his lips before the cool metal touched his tongue. He licked the bite off, closing his eyes to savor the bright, fresh tastes and sweet textures. When he swallowed, he opened them to see Alex had moved a little closer, his eyes wide and shining in the firelight.</p><p>"Good?" He asked. Michael nodded, glancing down at the container between them.</p><p>He reached over, covering Alex's warm hand and palming the fork: "You want the next bite?" He asked. He heard Alex's breath hitch, but he nodded.</p><p>He scooped some rice and added a slim piece of mango, cheating a little with his powers as it tried to slide off. He held it up to Alex's mouth, and the other man's eyes didn't leave his as he took the offering.</p><p>They worked through the dessert, bit by bit, gathering each other closer each time they passed the fork, and when Michael heard the satisfied crunching of the feral getting her dinner, he didn't dare mention it to the sweet treat who'd somehow ended-up in his lap, kissing the last of the mango from his lips.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Top quote from today's phone banking:<br/>Me: "Hello! My name is [walletname] and I'm a volunteer with the Georgia Democrats; is Franklin available?"<br/>Franklin (GA): "He is available, he just does not care that much."<br/>Franklin (GA): *hangs up*<br/>- Not Noelia: "Go Democrats!" (This was a wrong number, but two of my many wrong numbers today cheered the democrats, so that was nice encouragement)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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